


No One Could Save Me But You

by ladivvinatravestia



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Depersonalization, HYDRA Trash Party, Hurt No Comfort, Knife Play, M/M, No Magical Healing Cock, Self-Esteem Issues, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:02:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22040974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladivvinatravestia/pseuds/ladivvinatravestia
Summary: Brock Rumlow is delighted to be able to see Steve and Bucky reunited.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49
Collections: Hydra Holiday Trash Party Gift Exchange 2019





	No One Could Save Me But You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HaniTrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaniTrash/gifts).

> This is not a happy fic. Nobody has a nice time in this fic, except maybe Brock Rumlow. Bucky does not consent to the sex that is had. Steve does not consent to the sex that is had, not even after he says "okay". If you do not wish to see your faves having a terrible, non-consensual time, please click the back button and choose another fic.
> 
> Additional notes: referenced/background Alexander Pierce/James "Bucky" Barnes; Rumlow uses some gendered slurs on Bucky
> 
> Thanks to [Deus3xMachina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deus3xMachina/profile) for the beta.

The Soldier is wakened from a fitful rest by Commander Rumlow and the rest of the STRIKE team coming through the door to the Soldier’s holding cell, lugging an unconscious man.

“Ugh, fucker’s much heavier than he looks,” comments Rollins.

“Hey, Soldier, get off the bed, we brought you a boyfriend,” orders Rumlow.

Out of all the things the Soldier might want - a hot shower, not to feel hungry all the time, boots that don’t pinch - a boyfriend is not very high on the list. But it’s an order from his handler and he’s not allowed to refuse. He rolls off the lumpy, stained mattress and stands up. The STRIKE team immediately heave the unconscious man face up onto the bed and secure his wrists to the headboard above his head with magnetic cuffs. A second set of cuffs secures the man’s ankles to the foot of the bed. As the STRIKE team step away from their handiwork, the Soldier gets a good look at the new captive. He’s tall and broad with a shock of blond hair and a dark blue tac suit. He seems familiar. Why?

“That’s good, everybody, I can take it from here,” Rumlow tells the rest of the team, and they take their leave and exit the cell. He locks the door, looks up at the security camera in the corner of the cell, shoots it, and then throws his jacket over the two-way mirror on the wall. Well, it’s no mystery what that means.

The Soldier has not been cleaned since his mission last night to shoot the traitorous Director Fury, and Rumlow will definitely complain about how sweaty and smelly the Soldier is while he’s fucking him, but that’s the kind of thing the Soldier has learned to stop feeling bad about. It’s not, after all, within his control whether he is given hygeine and maintenance between performing his tactical functions and his sexual functions. He starts stripping off his jacket.

Rumlow looks up at the Soldier from where he is sat next to the captive on the bed. There’s a mixture of desire and amusement in his eyes.

“Eager, aren’t you?” he asks.

The Soldier is, indeed, eager to get this over with so he can get back to resting for his next mission, which Secretary Pierce has promised him will help shape the future. But Rumlow doesn’t need to know that. In fact, he’d probably mock the Soldier if he found out that’s the way he was thinking. The Soldier might just be an asset, but sometimes when Secretary Pierce is fucking him, he tells him how intelligent and thoughtful he is for being more interested in carrying out HYDRA’s political plans than in sexual recreation. Rumlow is a good, focused operative in the field, but he’s always quick to turn to sex when the mission is done. The Soldier likes to think that makes him smarter and more insightful than Rumlow, even if he is just an asset while Rumlow is a real person. The Soldier reaches to pull his compression shirt over his head, mindful of the nipple rings he was recently fitted with.

“Tell you what,” says Rumlow, standing up. “You gotta let me have the first go before you can play with him, but I’ll let you help me cut his clothes off.”

It’s curious how the handlers all seem to treat sex as something the Soldier looks forward to and enjoys. Like it’s a reward instead of just another chore. Sometimes with Secretary Pierce it’s kind of nice, when he touches the Soldier’s hair and his cheek and says how good he is at combat and marksmanship, but usually it’s nothing for the Soldier to get excited about.

The Soldier crouches next to the bed to examine the prisoner’s tac suit. Like his own, it has a variety of buckles, zippers, and clasps. He reaches out to start undoing the man’s chest harness. It’s not exactly a gun holster, but what is it, and why does it, and the man, look so familiar?

Rumlow makes an impatient noise. “We don’t have time for this, just cut it off him.”

The Soldier pulls out his knife. It seems like a waste to ruin a perfectly good tac suit, but logistics and budgeting have never been part of his assigned role. He sits down on the bed and applies himself to cutting the prisoner’s garments off, starting with the belt and the harness. As he’s carrying out his task, he notices that the prisoner’s name is on the arm of his suit - Rogers. Something else that, like his face and suit, seems vaguely recognizable. Like the logistics and budgeting, it’s not his role to think through why some missions seem familiar, or whether other missions will really bring about the ordered world HYDRA intends to create - even Secretary Pierce would agree that isn’t where his value as an asset lies. It continues to gnaw away at him, though, as he’s cutting away the suit.

He finds he needs to straddle the prisoner - Rogers - in order to cut the suit off his arm closest to the wall, and it’s at this precise moment that Rogers wakes with a jolt. The Soldier slides his knife across Rogers’s chest to rest the point right under his chin and shifts his weight so he’s holding Rogers down and making eye contact with him, challenging him to stay still.

“Bucky?” says Rogers, confusion clear in his blue eyes.

“Oh look,” drawls Rumlow, “Your boyfriend’s awake.”

What’s - no, who’s - Bucky? Is that one of the Soldier’s former designations? Like Rogers himself, it seems unsettlingly familiar.

“Hey, Soldier, I tell you to stop?” says Rumlow. “Keep going, get his clothes off.”

“Don’t move,” the Soldier orders Rogers, but the moment he removes the point of his knife from Rogers's jugular, he starts to struggle against the mag cuffs.

“Bucky, you don’t have to do this,” he says.

“Stop it,” the Soldier hisses, moving his knife swiftly back under Rogers's jaw. 

“Bucky, you don’t  _ want _ to do this,” Rogers continues. 

The Soldier hesitates briefly. Assuming that the “Bucky” designation applies to him, how can Rogers have known that? Regardless, it is of no import. The Soldier’s wishes are never taken into account when he is given orders or a mission.

Perhaps encouraged by the hesitation, Rogers continues. He pulls against the mag cuffs and says, “Bucky, we’re going to get you out of here and -”

“Shut the fuck up, you asshole,” growls Rumlow, and cold-cocks Rogers across the face with his gun. “Don’t you ever run out of inspirational, patriotic bullshit to spout?”

Rogers spits blood out at Rumlow. “Nope,” he says, and the Soldier experiences another glimmer of recognition. “C’mon, Buck,” continues Rogers, addressing the Soldier. “It’ll be just like it used to be, you rescuing me after I got in over my head -”

He stops speaking abruptly as Rumlow disengages the safety on his pistol and levels it at the Soldier’s head.

“If you don’t shut up and let your little boyfriend have his fun, I’m going to shoot him instead,” he says. Rogers looks between Rumlow and the Soldier and then shuts his mouth with a snap. Curious. The Soldier cannot recall anyone ever being dissuaded from a course of action by a threat to his own life before.

“Good decision, Cap,” says Rumlow. “Now, I was going to fuck you, but I’ve decided to be generous and let you two sweethearts have the reunion sex you’ve been waiting for, first.” He waves his pistol at the Soldier. “Go on, show Cap how much you’ve missed him.”

The Soldier sits back between Rogers's legs and looks to Rumlow for confirmation. This kind of language is almost always a veiled order to give a blow job. Rumlow nods.

“No,” says Rogers.

The Soldier bends over and takes Rogers's dick in his mouth, eager to test whether the tongue ring he was recently fitted with improves his efficiency in bringing his missions to arousal and completion.

“Buck, no,” says Rogers in a somewhat strangled voice. He’s already more than halfway hard, has been since he came awake to the Soldier’s knife at his throat. His dick has a comforting weight on the Soldier’s tongue, and when he slides his tongue ring along the foreskin, it gives an interested twitch. Rogers himself makes a pained sound and flinches away as if struck.

“Aw, Cap, don’t you want your old boyfriend any more?” taunts Rumlow. The Soldier searches his memory. Why is Rumlow so strangely insistent that the Soldier is Rogers's boyfriend?

“Not like this,” Rogers hisses through his teeth, and, though the Soldier can’t see what he’s doing, his movements suggest he is making another attempt on the mag cuffs.

“You’ll hurt his feelings,” Rumlow wheedles.

This is inaccurate. The Soldier is merely an asset and does not have feelings. He is, however, concerned that Rogers's thrashing around while the Soldier is trying to blow him will result in an injury for which the Soldier will be blamed. He lets Rogers's cock slip out of his mouth and rises to his knees and elbows so he can lie above Rogers on the bed. Normally he is not permitted to draw weapons on the people he is servicing, but Rumlow has so far been tolerant of the Soldier using the knife on Rogers, so he holds his knife once more to Rogers's throat with his right hand. With his left hand he reaches down to resume stroking Rogers's cock. Rogers's nostrils flare in annoyance but his pupils are blown wide with desire. He says,

“Bucky, it’s okay, I forgive you. We’ll figure this out.”

This is nonsensical. What is there to forgive? The Soldier is properly following orders, and Rogers may be saying that he’d like the Soldier to stop, but his physical reactions tell a different story. He continues stroking Rogers's cock until it’s full and throbbing, his knife still at Rogers's throat. Rogers makes noises that may be noises of arousal or distress, and the Soldier feels drawn to bend his head to Rogers's neck and inhale deeply. Rogers shudders. He smells very familiar, and the Soldier has a sudden sense of deja vu. Has he really encountered Rogers before? Do they have a past together?

Rumlow is watching from the chair, legs sprawled, palming himself through his tac pants. If he’s noticed the Soldier’s deviations from protocol, he either doesn’t care or is aroused by it.

Eager to further explore his sense of deja vu and sensing that Rogers is ready to be fucked, the Soldier sheds his own tac pants and climbs astride Rogers, positioning himself so he can take Rogers's dick. He’d taken the opportunity earlier to prep himself with lube - it’s always safest for him to assume he will be required for sexual release after combat missions, even if he couldn’t have foreseen this exact sequence of events. As he’s easing himself into position, Rogers sighs, swallows audibly, and then says,

“Okay. It’s - okay. This is happening. Okay.”

The glimpse of deja vu is gone but Rogers's dick feels good inside him anyway. Since the Soldier is setting the pace here, he can control the brush of Rogers's length against his prostate, and maybe he can actually achieve his own sexual release at the same time, a privilege he is not normally afforded. He rolls his hips forward and Rogers inhales sharply. The Soldier closes his eyes and feels his nipples tighten around the studs and his own dick starting to fill. This could be, as Rogers put it, okay.

But no, it can’t, because he’s interrupted by Rumlow, who has stood up and is crossing in a purposeful stride to the bed.

“Soldier, what the fuck?” he snaps. “I ordered you to fuck Rogers, not to sit on his dick like a little pussy.”

The Soldier stills, looking at Rumlow. He wants  _ the Soldier _ to fuck  _ Rogers _ ? This is not -

Rumlow narrows his eyes and the Soldier feels a spike of adrenaline. Shit, he should have realized this would turn into some kind of no-win scenario. Why is he so stupid?

“Are you refusing a direct order, Soldier?” Rumlow asks dangerously.

“I’m not trained for that procedure, sir,” the Soldier replies. No answer will be the right answer here, so the Soldier goes with the one that is the most truthful.

“Fine, I’ll fucking do it myself,” snarls Rumlow.

Somewhat reluctantly, the Soldier climbs off of Rogers and off the bed. Rumlow stops short a few steps away from the bed, assessing, and Rogers picks up on his mood.

“Logistical problem?” he taunts Rumlow. With Rogers face up on the bed, it would take a true act of contortion for Rumlow to be able to fuck him, but it’s clear that if the mag cuffs are removed to reposition him, he will struggle and most likely escape. The Soldier takes a moment to feel superior. Though mag cuffs are often used to restrain him during sexual recreation, they are never needed to ensure his compliance.

Rumlow purses his lips momentarily in thought, then aims his pistol directly at the Soldier’s head again. “Nope,” he says. “I’m going to release the mag cuffs and you’re going to turn over, nice and slow, and then your boyfriend here is going to put the mag cuffs back on you. And if you try any funny business at all, your boyfriend gets it.”

Rogers glares mutinously, but does as he is told. Once he’s secured with his ass up in the air, Rumlow lowers his pistol and starts unbuckling his pants. As Rumlow is pushing his fingers, unlubed, into Rogers's ass to open him up, the Soldier mulls over how Rogers is made most cooperative by threats to the Soldier’s person, rather than his own. He can’t remember having ever seen this form of coercion before, and he can’t help but assume that it, like so many other things, will end badly for him.


End file.
